


see you lookin' up

by orphan_account



Series: say i'm the one you want [1]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 01:01:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3402662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of Harry's brain tells him that he says this with every other fuck, but he's convinced Louis' ass is the best ass he's been in.</p>
            </blockquote>





	see you lookin' up

Harry still can't properly believe that they've made it this far. 

They're headlining their own tour, a new stage every other night with people that know their band, their names, their lyrics. It's crazy. It's exhilarating.

He remembers being seventeen and starting this, texting Zayn ninety times a day until he finally agreed to join with him, co-lead and pianist of his heart, perfect tenor counterpart to the rough bass of Harry. He remembers how his ex-girlfriend Carol, after coming back from visiting her grandparents in Santo Domingo, had just dropped her lunch tray down on their table and grabbed the sheet of paper from Harry's hand and said, "This line would sound shitty live, lemme fix it," and became their third member, easy as that. He remembers watching Zayn convince Liam that it would be a good go, a good bet, and trying not to think about the number of sexual favors Zayn probably had to commit in the long run.

He remembers all of the beginning, but if he's honest, sometimes the middle feels like a blur, like something wild and crazy and other that couldn't have possibly happened to them. There's always the feel that shit this good happens to other people. That there's no way they could have lucked out just from Carol being in the right place at the right time and managing to convince a label exec to listen to their EP. That after years of small shows in cramped locations, they tripped up and opened for VW and now, now--they’re doing it themselves. Goddamn. 

He remembers that he's definitely seen this same boy at more than one show, pressed against the stage and making eyes at Harry the entire time. 

"Hey," he asks Zayn from side stage, watching their opener start the first song of their set, "you seen him before?"

Zayn shrugs. "You think I'm in the habit of differentiating white boys desperate to fuck you? You think I got the time?" 

Carol, downing the last swigs of the red wine the four of them have been sharing to warm up, says, "he's been at every west coast show we've done, I think. I remember because every time you sign something for him, he flirts so blatantly I can't believe you haven't caught up yet."

"Prolly just another twink tryna suck your dick in the alley," Liam says, rolling his eyes and twirling his drumsticks.

Harry crouches a little, pushing his hair back so he can get a better look at him. He's wearing their band shirt, logo over the smooth off-black he and Carol spent days agonizing over. Harry can't tell what color his eyes are, his face keeps flitting around, looking around, like he's trying to find something. His gaze lands on side stage pretty often, and Harry wonders if he can see them. He's nice, all sharp cheekbones and proportional features. 

"He's not, though," Harry says, squinting. He's seen his fair share of twinks--and fucked enough of them--to know what they look like and how they carry themselves, but this guy isn't. He's small, but he's definitely not a twink. "Twinks don't have arms like that."

Zayn squats down next to him, taking a drag from his cigarette as he looks out to where Harry directs him. "Shit. He is nice."

"Yeeeeah," Harry drawls, standing back up and flipping his hair out of his face. "You think Mark will get 'em for me?"

"We go on in half an hour," Liam reminds him.

Harry pokes his tongue out a bit, grinning. "Just a lil' pick me up. Drugs, sex, and rock n roll, right?"

Liam rolls his eyes again. "You don't even do anything worse than weed."

"All the better reason to make sure he's not lacking in the other categories," Carol answers, accepting the fistpump Harry aims her way. He's happy they broke up so long ago; they work a lot better as friends than they do lovers. Too much alike. 

"Glove up," Zayn reminds him, ruffling the nape of his neck.

///

When Mark brings the boy backstage, to the dressing room the four of them have been cramped into, he looks disbelieving. When Mark closes the door and leaves him alone with Harry, he looks shell shocked. 

"Hey," Harry greets, getting up to meet him at the door. 

"Holy shit," the boy answers. 

Harry grins, a little filthy and with too much teeth. 

"Holy _shit_ ," he repeats. "I need to sit down."

"We can sit down," Harry agrees, leading him back to one of the more comfortable couches lined up against the wall. He puts just the tips of his fingers at the small of his back. A hint.

Instead of sitting at one across, Harry sits right next to him, folding a leg up under his body and facing the boy. He's way too close for it to be casual. He can see the long flutter of his eyelashes, and smell the smoke on his skin, too ingrained to just be a product of this venue. There's cologne there, too, the type Harry couldn't even afford to look at before they got the record deal. 

The boy isn't directly facing him, but he's twisted his head so that his gaze is wide and bright on Harry's. Harry stares back steadily, softening the grin on his face, just a little. He thinks he's got his face on, his pulling face that doesn't fail him even when it's a challenge.

This, he knows, won't be a challenge. 

"Why am I back here?" the boy bursts out, fixing his face forward.

Harry uses his thumb and index to gently turn his eyes back onto Harry. He has nice eyes. Powder blue, periwinkle, pretty. He doesn't drop his face when he says, "just wanted to tell you thank you for being such a faithful supporter. Noticed you at a lot of our shows, yeah?"

He nods.

Harry smiles wider. "Can I have your name?"

"Louis," he breathes, and then clears his throat in apparent embarrassment at sounding so breathy. "Louis Tomlinson. I didn't think--" He stops.

"You didn't think what?" Harry prods. Louis has facial hair, and it looks like it'd feel good against Harry's thighs if he was deepthroating him. Harry is hoping he'll find out if that's true tonight. 

"That you guys noticed. I've been to a bunch of shows but it's not like other people don't, too."

"'Course we noticed. Don't really think other people are as nice looking as you are, though, are they?" 

Louis doesn't seem like he'd be the type of person to blush easily, but he does now, consciously or unconsciously leaning closer to Harry. "Is that so?" he asks. Harry almost forgot that he was still holding on to Louis' face, but when Louis curves into it, just a little, he's jolted back to full awareness. 

Harry can't stop staring at his mouth. He wonders how much conversation is enough conversation before he can kiss Louis. He can easily see that Louis is attracted to him, but he wants to be polite about it, doesn't want to just come across as an asshole who called him up for a quick fuck. Even though he kind of did. Still, doesn't mean it can't be a nice quick fuck.

"Yeah," he answers. "That's definitely so. I think you're gorgeous, and I'm really happy you like our band."

Louis makes a noise in the back of his throat, and then he's scrambling to climb onto Harry's lap and crashing their lips together, hard. Harry smiles into the kiss and easily grabs onto Louis' waist.

"God, I've wanted you for so long," Louis says into the kiss, hands coming up to take hold onto Harry's hair, passing through root to where it falls onto Harry's shoulders. 

"How long?" Harry asks softly, bringing a hand up from Louis' waist to curl around the back of his head, gently but firmly taking hold of the kiss, directing him how he wants to wants around his mouth. He's got a nice little mouth, sure of itself and parting easily when Harry prods at it with his tongue. 

"Too long," he answers, tightening his grip on Harry's hair. Harry licks his way into his mouth, tasting the bitterness of beer on the roof of his jaw, the soft give of his tongue.

"You're eighteen, right?" Harry asks, pulling back a little. He's pretty sure he is, but he's almost gotten fooled before, and he's not up for the risk. 

"Nineteen," Louis assures him, and pulls Harry back in. Harry trails his mouth down, mouthing along the strong line of Louis' jaw, stopping to suck on it, maybe a little too hard. He wants to leave a mark, have Louis remembering this night a week from now, when it's bruised up sea blue and still hurting when he pokes at it in the middle of the night. 

When Louis slides down to kneel in between Harry's spread legs, Harry's dick twitches in his pants. "I wanna suck your cock," Louis says redundantly, rubbing his hands on Harry's inner thighs. 

"I'd love if you'd do that for me, baby," Harry says, spreading his legs wider.

Louis undoes Harry's fly, pulling the belt through the loop and making quick work of the zip and buttons. Harry can't recall if he remembered to put briefs on today, but the puzzle is quickly solved when Louis connects with skin immediately, pulling Harry's semi from their confines.

"Fuck, you're big," Louis says when he's got Harry in hand, voice lowered to a rough baritone. 

Harry smiles down at him in thanks and flexes his thighs up, softly reminding Louis to get a move on while he spends a moment just turning it around in his hands and scrutinizing it. Harry can't say that he's ever had his cock analyzed, but at least the look on Louis' face is revealing a positive decision. 

"Yeah," says Louis, and wraps his lips around the head of Harry's cock.

Louis looks fantastic around dick. He has the hand not steadying Harry's waist loosely gripping the base. He's jacking Harry's cock into his mouth, taking more into his mouth with every stroke up and bob down. 

He's easy with the spit, but it's not in a way that betrays amateur skills and inexperience. He's setting the parameters, wants it to be this wet and messy.

"God, you're nice like this, Louis," Harry groans, threading his hands into Louis' hair, relishing in the way it looks and feels, free of product and freshly trimmed. 

Louis looks up at him through his lashes, eyes bright and twinkling. He looks like he'd be smirking if there wasn't a cock full up in his mouth. As it is, he hums around it tightly, playing the suction up high. It's takes a lot for Harry to restrain himself and not grind his hips up.

He doesn't even have to wonder if Louis would let him, if he’d be into that, because after pulling up once to inhale quickly, he's going back down. Like, _all the way_ back down, mouth splitting wider around Harry's cock, spit unrestrained.

Louis, Harry thinks a bit wildly, isn't someone new to sucking dick. Or choking on it. When the wet head of Harry's cock hits the back of his throat, even though he almost immediately starts gagging on it, he keeps moving down, like it's not all that bad, like his watery eyes and red face and self inflicted choking is just an afterthought.

Harry isn't expecting it, but when he moans and comes down Louis' throat without a warning for either of them, he certainly isn't shocked. 

He fucks out his orgasm into Louis' mouth; he can feel as it gets even wetter with the come Louis can't manage to swallow in time--and he does try to swallow, shit--aftershocks wracking his body as Louis keeps at trying to suck his fucking soul through the slit of his dick. 

Even after he's come, it always takes Harry some time to soften up, but Louis doesn't seem to mind, keeps it filling his mouth until Harry has to forcibly pull him off, twitching from the overstimulation. 

"Oh my God, Louis," Harry groans, helping him up. "That was fucking amazing." And it was--Harry knows good head because Harry gives good head and this was _definitely_ good head. 

"Amazing's the best word you could come up with?" Louis rasps, grinning at Harry. His mouth is red and stretched. The corners look like they hurt, like they were just pulled far around thick cock bigger than he was used to and could handle. And he was.

"Brilliant. Awesome. Otherfuckingworldly," Harry assures him, leaning in to kiss Louis after he's straddled Harry's lap again.

He means to get Louis off, maybe jack him off or suck his dick in return, but before he can even undo Louis' zip, there's a knock on the door as quick warning before Liam is peeking his head in and telling Harry, "we're on in two, gotta jet, bro," and closing the door again to give them their last moments of privacy. 

Harry sighs, slowing down the press of his lips against Louis' sore ones to a standstill. "I owe you an orgasm," he tells him.

"You don't owe me anything," Louis protests, getting off Harry. "This was already the best night of my life. Also..." He pauses. "I already came." 

Harry's eyes widen. "Really?" 

When he looks down, there is in fact a wet spot over his crotch. "Fuck," Harry breathes, getting up and pulling Louis back in by his jaw for a kiss he can't help, sloppy and dirty. A promise of more to come.

///

"You want another finger?" Harry murmurs into Louis' ear, biting it softly.

"Wanted another finger the second you put this one in me," Louis gasps, pushing back on it when Harry slides a second in without hesitation. "Fuck."

The show went well--Liam is Harry's comrade in natural stage presence, but he's limited by the sedentary requirements of his position, so Harry usually has to work a bit to get Carol and Zayn to interact. Tonight was easier, though, not only because they were agreeable to making dumb faces and dramatic riffs, but also because Harry was still high off a spectacular fucking blowjob and the reason was right there against the stage and singing along to every word of every song. 

"His mouth looks so fucked out," Carol said into Harry's ear during Liam's drum solo in Pink, rearranging the strap of her bass over her shoulder. Harry grinned and started the chorus with Zayn, skipping the short distance back to center stage.

He'd asked Louis to stick around for a little after the show was done, and after signing and taking photos and chatting a bit with whoever wants, he went up backstage and searched for Louis. He found him snooping around the more deserted areas of the venue, trying to open locked doors, both with nitpicking and brute force.

"Could get you arrested for this," Harry said, letting the silence of the barren hallway to carry his voice over. 

Louis turned to him, not a twinge of shame apparent in the dim light at being caught. "Or you could fuck me," he said, and dangled a condom packet between his thumb and forefinger. 

And here they are.

Harry hasn't showered yet, is sweaty and gross and lost the softness of Carol's perfume, but Louis doesn't seem to mind. He himself is the fizzing conglomerate of different human smells packed into a small and smoky room. Harry doesn't mind that either.

"Now is fine," Louis tells him, cheek pressed against the wall. He's so demanding, and it's so fun; Harry likes when sex is push and pull instead of the boring alternative. 

"Now definitely isn't fine, babe," Harry replies, pressing his forehead on the defined muscle of Louis' back and looking down to watch as he fucks in a third finger on the next push in. Louis' resounding arch makes him smile. "Thanks for the advice, though."

By the time Harry's gloved up and is spreading Louis’ ass so he can watch his dick press into the give of his wet hole, Louis is molten and melted against Harry's body, jutting his ass out, mouthing at his forearm to keep the noises down. 

"God, you're beautiful," Harry says into his neck, and then sets about fucking him so hard he won't be able to sit comfortably for days. 

Part of Harry's brain tells him that he says this with every other fuck, but he's convinced Louis' ass is the best ass he's been in.

"You're so--fuck, Louis, you're taking me so well," he moans, eyes transfixed at the wet gleam of his cock as it slides in with every forward shove of Harry's hips.

"Could be taking you better," Louis replies, clenching tightly around Harry's cock. And--yeah. Yeah.

Harry fucks him with short, shallow thrusts, aware of the riskiness of the situation and the reality of his tour manager inevitably coming to look for him. He presses himself all along Louis' body, one hand braced against the wall and the other gripped too hard around Louis' hip, holding him steady and even. 

With his head bent forward, he can hear every sound Louis makes in surround sound--every moan shocked out from his lips, every grunt when Harry pushes in too hard, every low whine and high keen in the back of his throat when the wet head of Harry's cock shoves against his prostate. 

Harry steps his feet further apart and brings his arms to grasp at the fleshy curve of Louis' sides, moves in closer and presses Louis up. The change in angle has Louis biting out, "oh, fuck, fuck, fuck--" and squeezing hot and dirty, unbearable and too good.

"Oh my God," Harry pants into Louis' ear, having to dig his wet fingers in hard enough to bruise so he doesn't lose his hold on the sweaty skin. "Come on, come on," he urges, pounding into Louis faster as he nears orgasm. He's trying to hold out so Louis can come first, but if Louis doesn't get there soon, it'll be a losing battle. 

"Need to touch myself, gotta," Louis muffles against the wall, rocking back. He's crowded so well into the wall by the heavy weight of Harry's body that there's no way he's able to take hold of himself like this. Harry really doesn't want to change this position, though; it's too nice for both of them, has Louis making so much noise it's a wonder they haven't gotten caught yet. He's really close already, hole erratically fluttering around Harry's dick and ass riding back with the motions.

"You can without, can't you?" Harry asks lowly. He doesn't wait for Louis to reply before he's sucking on his neck and slamming roughly into his prostate, relishing the harsh curse fucked right out of Louis' body. 

It's gotta hurt a little, how relentlessly Harry is hitting the most sensitive part of his body, but there are no complaints thrown his way. In fact--Louis whines, "oh, _God_ ," and contracts his hole so soundly it hurts, letting out these shocked and soft noises as he comes on Harry's cock. 

No more postponing. Harry can't control himself or his hips anymore; he shoves all the way into Louis and groans, "shit, baby," into the back of his neck, throbbing and spilling into the condom. Jesus fuck.

///

"Was he good?" Carol asks him once they're in their van and headed for Seattle. 

"Like you wouldn't believe," Harry grins, running his fingers over the ten numbers Louis wrote in sharpie across his arm.

"Get it, baby," Zayn croons, lightly kicking Harry in the shin. Harry beams wider. He doesn't think he's gonna wash them off.


End file.
